Where The Most Beautiful Roses Grow
by fakiagirl
Summary: USUK. Arthur moves into a quiet American suburb with the intention of starting a new, calmer chapter of his life. It doesn't take long for him to meet Alfred, one of his new neighbors. Little does he know that this is a place where romance can bloom.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: _This will probably be another short one, maybe two or three chapters long. Yes, I'm still working on my other story. I just missed writing stuff like this. :)

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><p><em>Chapter 1<em>

One summer, Arthur moved. He had already lived in the United States for a few years, and he was tired of the hustle and bustle of city life. He bought a house in a nice, quiet, suburban neighborhood where the streets were lined with elm trees, and settled himself a job as an English professor at a nearby university. He had the whole summer to move in before school started, and he decided to enjoy it.

The house was a small one-story with neat, small, matching front and back yards. The garden was Arthur's first priority. He cleared out a bed around the front lawn and planted rose bushes. He filled the beds beneath the front and back windows with all kinds of flowers and bushes. Every morning, at 8 o'clock sharp, he would go outside and water his garden.

About a week after he moved in, he was watering the front yard when he spotted a man he had never met before jogging up the sidewalk. He was blond and wearing a simple outfit of a tank top and loose shorts. The white wire of his earbuds swung back and forth gently in tune with his movements. Arthur looked him over carefully. He had yet to meet any of his neighbors, and he was hopeful about meeting someone who was nice. As the man got closer, Arthur could see that he was young and wore glasses. He was also quite handsome. Arthur smiled a little and focused on watering his rose bushes. _Probably far too young for you, Arthur old boy. _The man jogged past, and, for the most part, Arthur forgot about him.

* * *

><p>A few days later, Arthur saw the man again. Arthur watched curiously as he approached. The man must have noticed him watching, because this time he raised his head and smiled. Arthur blinked and then smiled back in a friendly sort of way. He didn't expect the man to slow down to a walk, pull an earbud out of one ear, and say, "Good morning."<p>

"Good morning," Arthur replied. He was so surprised he forgot to move onto the next plant and nearly drowned one of his rose bushes.

The man walked right up to Arthur's white picket fence and stuck out a hand with a grin. "I'm Alfred Jones. You just moved in, right?"

"Erm, yes," Arthur answered as he hastily switched the hose to his other hand. He took Alfred's hand; the handshake was firm and warm. "I'm Arthur."

"Nice to meet you." Alfred had blue eyes and very white teeth. "Sorry I didn't come over and introduce myself earlier. I wasn't sure if you'd moved in yet."

"It's perfectly alright," Arthur said.

"I see you planted some roses."

"Yes, I did," Arthur replied.

"It looks nice." Alfred smiled and put the earbud back in his ear. "Catch you later." He jogged off.

_Alfred, _Arthur thought. _A nice name. _He eyed Alfred's retreating form. _Probably in university, actually. I hope he's not going to be one of my students this year. _He moved on to the next rose. _That would be awkward. _

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><p>As Arthur settled more firmly into a day-to-day schedule, he discovered that Alfred ran every morning. They developed a routine; Alfred would look up, smile, and wave, and Arthur would smile and wave back. Alfred had to have been running a loop of the neighborhood, because Arthur never saw him on his way back.<p>

Sometime in late July, Arthur's cat climbed up the large elm tree in front of Arthur's yard and decided it couldn't get down. It was a quiet, calm morning except for the piercing yowl of the distressed cat. "_England!_" Arthur hissed from the base of the tree. "Get down here this instant!" The cat paced anxiously once up and down the branch it was stuck on. It yowled again. A car drove past and Arthur flushed a little at how silly he must look. He crossed his arms against his chest and glared at his cat. "If you got yourself up there, you can get yourself down again." The cat merely yowled more loudly in response.

Five minutes later, Arthur had fished his step-stool out of the garage and was vainly trying to convince his cat to jump down into his arms. He was so focused on his task, he didn't notice the man jogging up to him until he said, "Hey Artie, what's the trouble?"

Arthur nearly fell off of the step-stool. He hastily steadied himself against the trunk of the tree and looked down. "Good afternoon, Alfred," he managed to say relatively normally.

"Cat stuck in a tree?" Alfred was smiling up at him. He was wearing an old t-shirt with some brand name printed on it and his running shorts. The earbuds were present, as always, though only one of them dangled out of his ear.

Arthur hastily got down from the step-stool and dusted himself off. "Erm, yes," he said awkwardly. "I'm sorry, I hope he wasn't disturbing you."

"Nah, I actually couldn't hear him until just now. You want some help?"

"No, really, I wouldn't want to trouble you," Arthur said too hastily.

"Sorry, I should have said, you look like you need some help." Alfred grinned and tilted his head in a way that Arthur found only too charming.

"Oh," Arthur said, and flushed a little. The cat yowled. Arthur's head snapped back up to it. "Oh, shut up, England," he said irritably.

Alfred laughed. "You named your cat England?"

Arthur turned a little pinker than he had been already. "So what if I did?"

"It's cute," Alfred said with a grin. "Anyway, I can probably get him down for you." And with that, Alfred easily climbed up the step-stool and into the tree. He shimmied up one of the main branches and quickly worked his way towards the cat.

"Oh, really," Arthur started, but Alfred was already up so high it wasn't worth protesting. "Be careful," he added anxiously as Alfred scooted farther out on the limb the cat was stranded on.

"Come here, kitty kitty," Alfred said in a cooing voice. The cat eyed him suspiciously and gave a tentative yowl. Alfred reached out a hand. "Come here, England. That's your name, right? I'm sure old Artie down there wants you home safe and sound." Arthur bristled a little at the comment (_I'm not "old"), _but any protest died on his lips as England began to slowly walk towards Alfred. Alfred wiggled his fingers invitingly and England . . . nuzzled them? Alfred easily scooped the cat up under one arm and worked his way back down the tree.

When he got close to the ground, the cat gave one _meow _of warning before it wiggled out of Alfred's grasp and leapt onto the sidewalk. It trotted a few feet away, sat down, and began cleaning its fur as if it hadn't been doing anything else.

Alfred grinned. "Cats, huh? They're so weird." He dusted himself off and pulled a few leaves out of his hair.

"Thank you very much," Arthur said gratefully. "Can I . . . get you some tea or something to thank you? I really appreciate you going to the trouble–"

Alfred chuckled a little and waved him away. "It really wasn't that big a deal."

"Please, come in and have some scones and tea with me," Arthur pleaded. "It's the least I can do."

Alfred brightened at that. "Scones?"

Arthur smiled, relieved that he had found some way to repay this almost-stranger. "Yes. I just made them yesterday."

Alfred's smile widened even further. "You cook? That's so cool!"

Arthur blushed a little. "Really, I'm not that good."

"Aw, don't be modest, Artie! I'm sure you're a great cook." Alfred patted him supportively on the back. Arthur winced a little; Alfred was stronger than he looked.

"Come in, then," Arthur said, and they walked up the small path to his door. He opened the door and Alfred stepped into his home.

"Wow," Alfred said excitedly. "Everything's so neat. If I'd only moved in here a month ago, my house would still be a mess. It takes me forever to unpack." Alfred laughed.

"Oh, I'm not done unpacking yet," Arthur said. "There are still some boxes in the garage. I keep meaning to get to them, but it always seems like there are other things to do." He walked farther into the house and Alfred followed him into the kitchen.

Arthur indicated that Alfred should have a seat at his kitchen table, and then he went about setting the kettle boiling and putting some scones on a plate. "What kind of tea would you like?" he asked.

"Do you have coffee?"

"No. Is that alright?" He looked Alfred, his brow creasing with concern.

Alfred grinned back and actually chuckled a little. Strangely, he seemed to be looking at Arthur's forehead. "Nah, it's fine. Can I just have a glass of water?"

Arthur nodded and filled up a glass for him. The kettle dinged and he poured himself a cup of tea. He brought the plate of scones over and sat down while he waited for the tea to steep.

"So, have you met a lot of your neighbors?" Alfred asked as he reached for one of the scones.

"Not really," Arthur said vaguely. To be honest, Alfred was the most human contact he'd had since moving here besides the person behind the register at the grocery store.

"How many besides me?" Alfred asked around a mouthful of scone.

" . . . None."

"What?" Alfred exclaimed, spewing crumbs everywhere. Arthur grimaced and wiped his face with his arm. "No way! Didn't people come over and introduce themselves to you?"

"No?" Arthur said uncertainly. He carefully strained his tea and set it aside. He picked up the pitcher of milk and poured a bit in. He touched the sides of the cup; still too hot to drink.

"But why not? They can't _all _be on vacation. It's their duty to introduce themselves to you! They should make you feel welcome." Alfred looked so concerned, Arthur almost laughed.

"Well, I can't blame them. I haven't exactly gone over and introduced myself. Chances are they don't even know I've moved in."

Alfred frowned. The scone lay forgotten on his plate. "But you're so nice. They should _want _to meet you."

Normally Arthur would have pointed out that this was not exactly logical, since they would still have to know him in the first place to realize that, but the compliment sidetracked him. Alfred thought he was . . . nice?

"We should go over there right now and introduce you," Alfred continued, and actually began to stand up.

"What? Of course not," Arthur said quickly. "I wouldn't want to bother them."

"Then bring some them scones! Everyone loves food." Alfred really did stand up now. He walked over to the counter and started rummaging through Arthur's cupboards.

"What – what are you doing?" Arthur asked, alarmed. He stood too.

"Do you have some paper plates or something?" Alfred asked.

"Um, no, don't think so – why?"

"That's fine. We'll just use these." He showed Arthur a plate matching the one on the table – his second-best china! Before Arthur could protest, Alfred was dividing the scones among the two plates. "We'll just do the houses on either side of you first. You seem kind of uncertain about it. I don't want to overwhelm you." Alfred flashed him a grin. "Don't worry. I'll come with you."

"What–" Arthur started, but Alfred had already shoved a plate in his hands and was pushing him out the door. "Why are you doing this?" Arthur finally managed.

"You aren't going to make friends if you don't go out and meet them," Alfred said. "As your first friend here, it's my duty to help you, isn't it?" He grinned, and it took Arthur a moment to process what he had just said. He and Alfred were friends?

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><p>With a lot of talking from Alfred and a muttered, "Hello, pleasure to meet you," from Arthur, they managed to meet both of Arthur's immediate neighbors. On his right lived a Chinese man with very pretty hair, and on his left lived a pair of men with pale blond hair. One of them was very tall, scary, wore glasses, and didn't speak much; the other one was quite happy and particularly overjoyed to meet them. Arthur wasn't sure, but he thought that the taller one might have called the other one "W'fe." It was all very confusing.<p>

When they returned to Arthur's house, he had significantly less scones in his possession and he was feeling somewhat emotionally drained. He was not, in general, a very social person. Those who didn't know him well didn't understand why he was a professor, if people bothered him so much; those who did know him well understood perfectly. Working with people who had at least some kind of respect for you and listened to what you had to say was completely different from meeting people who probably didn't care about you or what you had to say, and never would.

"See?" Alfred said when they were safely back inside. "That wasn't too bad, was it?"

"No, I suppose not," Arthur said with a little sigh. He slumped into his chair and picked up his teacup. He sipped at his tea; it wasn't exactly cold, but it was now only lukewarm.

"Now you know them well enough to say hi when you see them, right?" Alfred said with an encouraging smile.

Arthur couldn't help but smile a little in return. "Yes, you're right. Thank you, Alfred."

"Just being the hero I am," Alfred said with a grin. "Oh, speaking of, I haven't given you my number yet, have I?" He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and typed something into it. He looked up at Arthur expectantly. "What's yours?"

Dazed, Arthur rattled off his home phone. "Here, let me get a piece of paper," he muttered, and started sorting through the scraps of paper on the counter by the telephone.

"You can just give me yours," Alfred said helpfully.

Arthur paused and stared at him. It took him a moment to figure out what he must mean. "Oh," he said. "I, um, don't have a cell phone." He blushed a little and returned to his search for something to write Alfred's number on.

"Really? Why not?"

"I just never found I needed one," Arthur replied. He returned to Alfred with a sticky note and a pen, which he handed to him.

"Oh, okay," Alfred said, and bent over the sticky note. He wrote for a long longer than Arthur thought was strictly necessary, but he didn't say anything and eventually handed over the note. "Well, I'd best be going. Thanks for the scone," he said with a smile.

"Right," Arthur said, and they both stood. "My pleasure." He walked Alfred to the door and watched as he put the earbuds back in his ears.

"See you around," Alfred said with a grin, and jogged away down the path.

Arthur closed the door and looked at the sticky note in his hand. There was a number written on it, and accompanying the number was a little message. _Artie, _it said, _If you ever need anything, give me a call. A cup of coffee, someone to talk to, someone to rescue your cat, whatever. And P.S.: You're seriously not a bad cook. – Alfred_

Arthur taped it to the wall above his telephone. It was probably, he decided, the nicest thing anyone had ever given to him.

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><p>In early August, the weather took a turn for the worse. Clouds started building up in the sky, and they didn't look friendly. Arthur watched them warily as he watered his garden. Summer thunderstorms were his least favorite kind of weather. The rain didn't come that day, or the next. The day after that, Arthur was tense enough to rival the electricity in the air: He had a meeting with the president of the university that afternoon, and it would be the first time they had met face to face.<p>

Alfred jogged past that morning, as usual. He waved and smiled at Arthur. Arthur waved back automatically, but he was too tense to give him anything resembling an honest smile. Alfred noticed. A look of concern crossed his face. He stopped, pulled an earbud out of his ear, and walked over to Arthur. He put his arms on his white picket fence and leaned against it. "Hey, Artie. What's up?"

"Nothing more than usual," Arthur said. He glanced automatically up at the sky. For once, though, Alfred didn't tease him about it.

"You seem kinda tense," Alfred said. "Are you sure nothing's wrong?"

"Wrong? No . . ." Arthur said slowly. He looked down at the rosebush he was watering. "I have an interview later today," he said finally. "I already have the job, but this will be the first time I see them face to face. I have to give a presentation, and if they fire me . . ." His voice trailed away into nothing.

"They can't fire you based on just some interview," Alfred said firmly. "If they already hired you, what's the trouble?"

Arthur hunched his shoulders. "I'm a professor, so I'm going to be doing research on the side," he said quietly. "I have to give them regular updates on how my research is doing. If they don't think what I'm doing is interesting enough, they can reduce my funding."

"Aw, no way," Alfred said comfortingly. "They wouldn't do that. I'm sure whatever you're researching is super interesting anyway. If they're paying you in the first place, they _want _you to succeed, right?"

"I suppose so," Arthur mumbled.

"What are you researching?"

"I'm not going to tell you," Arthur said firmly. "You'll think it's boring. Actually, you won't even know what it is."

Alfred raised a challenging eyebrow. "Try me."

"No."

Alfred set his mouth in a mulish way. "Come on."

"English literature and religious influences during the Restoration in England," Arthur said sharply. He frowned up at Alfred. "Now, don't you have some running to be doing?"

Alfred looked hurt. "Fine," he said. "Good luck." He put the earbud back in his ear and jogged away.

Arthur immediately felt guilty for snapping, but he stood by what he said. He was already presenting his research subject to the president and the head of the English department, who at least might understand what he was getting at. He really didn't need some kid telling him that he was boring. He already knew that.

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><p>Arthur spent the rest of his morning nervously drinking tea and cleaning his kitchen. When it was finally time for his meeting, he got together his things, put on a suit and tie (without bothering to try to comb his hair; he had given up on that long ago), and went to his car. He had barely turned out of the street before the rain began pouring down in sheets. He was almost late to the meeting because the visibility was so poor, and when he got to the school, he had to walk over what felt like miles of uncovered ground to get to the proper building. By the time he entered the meeting, the thunder had started and he was drenched.<p>

The meeting was tense. Two pairs of eyes drilled into Arthur while he stumbled over his presentation. "English literature and religious influences during the age of the Restoration" was not exactly the most exhilarating topic, and the expressions he got from his audience were almost entirely blank stares. The meeting went much later than he had planned. By the time he drove home, the clouds made it feel like dusk and the rain was worse than it had been on the way up. Several streets were flooded, and he had to go around the back way to enter his neighborhood. He parked his car in front of his house because he had stupidly, stupidly started piling boxes in his garage, so he got soaked all over again on his way to the front door. He could never before remember being so happy to be _home. _

He peeled off his soaking wet jacket, his probably ruined shoes, and his socks, and uncharacteristically dumped them by the door. He started the kettle boiling for tea and leaned against the counter while he waited. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cupboard. _Please, just let me relax, _he thought. _A nice cup of tea. That's all I ask. _The kettle clicked off and he poured it into his cup. The tea started to steep and he smiled. Everything was going to be okay.

He opened the fridge to get out the milk. His hand met empty air. He frowned and looked through his entire fridge. Twice. He was out of milk. Then he remembered: He had been planning on going by the store on his way back from the meeting, to get . . . milk. Arthur bit his lip. He couldn't believe that he felt close to tears. It was just milk. He could drink tea without milk. Some people did.

Arthur swore and slammed his fridge door closed. He wiped his eyes hastily on his already soaked sleeve and started to pace his kitchen. "Okay," he mumbled to himself. "You're going to go to the store and get some milk. That's all." He picked his keys back up, threw back on his soaking socks and shoes and jacket, and went out the door.

The rain was coming down in buckets. He wrapped his arms around himself and tried to ignore it. He reached his car, unlocked the door, and slid inside. He put the key in the ignition and turned it. His car made a horrible screeching, grinding noise, and died. Arthur tried again, and again, but nothing happened. He got out, slammed the door, and opened the bonnet. He stared at the contents for a moment, and then burst into tears.

Alfred found him a minute later kicking the side of his car repeatedly, sobbing. Alfred pushed back the hood of his jacket and blinked at Arthur through the rain that was quickly covering his glasses. "Whoa, Arthur, I saw you'd gotten home and thought I'd see if you wanted to eat some scones together or something – what's wrong?"

_"What's wrong?" _Arthur screamed, emphasizing it with a kick to the rear tire this time. "My meeting went horribly, I'm hungry, I'm cold, I'm wet, I'm tired, and I just want some _tea. _I have no milk, my car won't start, and I know absolutely _nothing – _nothing! – about how cars work_._"

Arthur felt an arm wrap around his waist and for some reason, he stopped kicked his car. "Artie," said Alfred's warm voice in his ear, "I can't understand a word you're saying, but it looks like you need to sit down someplace warm, okay?" Alfred began to tow Arthur back up the walkway to his house.

Arthur pushed back against him weakly. "No, I need milk."

"Okay, go sit down inside and I will get you milk."

"No, you won't, because . . . because . . ." Arthur could not think of a single reason why he was saying no that to that offer. He frowned up at Alfred. "Wait, you'd get milk for me?"

Alfred grinned down at him. His fringe was dripping water and his glasses were fogged. "Of course I would. I'm a hero." They had reached the doorstep. "Go dry off and I'll be back in a minute. Do you need anything else besides milk?"

"Some Earl Grey tea would be nice," Arthur blurted out. He knew he was running low, and he couldn't remember anything else from his shopping list.

"Earl Grey, got it. Be right back." Alfred patted him on the head and ran back out into the rain. Arthur watched him disappear down the sidewalk before he opened the front door and went inside. He closed it behind him automatically and didn't bother to lock it. He took his shoes and jacket off all over again, and then he dragged himself off to the bathroom to clean up. As he did so, he found his head being filled with one thought: _What did I do to deserve someone as kind as Alfred? _

* * *

><p>A long, hot shower and a dry set of clothes later, Arthur was sitting at his small kitchen table and feeling much calmer. He had set out a plate of scones while he waited, as per Alfred's implied request. Since then, he had been replaying what had just happened in his head. Whenever he thought of how he had acted, his ears turned a bit pink. His hands clenched in his lap. <em>Of course Alfred now thinks you're some pitiful old man who can't experience a single rainstorm without having a mental breakdown, <em>he thought dismally. _There goes any possibility that he thinks highly of you. _

The door suddenly swung open and a dripping Alfred stepped into the tiled entrance way. "Hey, Arthur," Alfred said happily. He had a large paper grocery bag under one arm (or at least, it had once been paper; it was now quickly disintegrating into something else). He slammed the door shut and walked over to the kitchen, trailing water as he went.

Arthur sprang to his feet. "Oh, you're soaking – I'll get you a towel."

"Thanks," Alfred said gratefully.

When Arthur came back with a towel in hand, Alfred had dumped the contents of the grocery bag onto the counter. There was indeed a carton of milk, in addition to four boxes of tea, a bottle of honey, and a box of sugar cubes. "What's all this?" Arthur asked distractedly as Alfred took the towel and began to dry his hair.

"Oh, yeah. They had like a ton of different brands of Earl Grey, so I got a whole bunch just to be safe, and the lady I asked said that sometimes you drink tea with honey and sugar? So I got some of those, too." He paused in drying his hair and pointed at the box. "I got sugar cubes, see. Because you're English."

Arthur was about to ask what that had to do with anything, but Alfred sounded so proud of himself, Arthur didn't want to hurt his feelings. He quickly changed his question. "Thank you," he said gratefully. He picked up the nearest box of teabags and opened it. "Would you like something to drink?"

Alfred slouched into a chair and put on his now dry glasses. He made a little humming noise. "No thanks. I'm not a big tea guy."

"Oh, right." Arthur blushed a little and busied himself preparing his own cup of tea. While the water boiled (again), he sat down across from Alfred. "Er," he said, and his eyes darted away from Alfred. Alfred looked at him curiously. "I just wanted to say, sorry for how I acted earlier. I was being 'stupid,' as you would say. And thanks again for this. I really appreciate it."

"Of course! It's really no problem. I'm the hero, right? I have to save the day." Alfred grinned. "And about earlier? It was no trouble. I get it. I wouldn't want to talk about my super awesome research project either if I was about to give a really stressful presentation on it." Alfred grinned, and Arthur couldn't help but smile back a little at him.

"I'm not usually this emotional, either," Arthur added apologetically. "I promise I'm usually perfectly sane."

Alfred laughed. "Hey, I understand how it can be when your day sucks. Don't worry about it."

The water finished boiling and Arthur went to go tend to his tea. There was a comfortable silence as he waited for the tea to steep. He opened the milk, poured a little in, and sat down at the table across from Alfred. He sipped at the tea and hummed a little: Just how he liked it.

Alfred was fiddling with his still-wet jeans. Arthur realized quite suddenly that he had never seen Alfred in casual clothes before. He was wearing a hoodie, dark blue jeans, and Converse. The Converse were very patriotic: Not only were they red, white, and blue, but they had stars and stripes all over them. It was very Alfred, Arthur decided.

"So, I was thinking," Alfred said without looking up. "Maybe we could go to a movie or something? Like, sometime next week. If you're free."

"A movie?" Arthur asked in surprise. "I don't really go out to movies."

"Oh." Alfred looked at him side-long. "I see."

There was a moment of silence while Arthur tried to figure out if he had said something wrong. Eventually, Alfred stood up. "Thanks for the scones," he said, though he hadn't touched them. "I should be going. Even if your meeting didn't go awesome, they didn't eat you alive, right?" He smiled at Arthur, but it was lacking its usual shine. "See ya later."

"Goodbye," Arthur replied. He walked Alfred to the door and watched him disappear into the rain. A brief thought hit him that he should have suggested they do something other than go see a movie, but he supposed it was too late now. "Oh well," he muttered as he closed the door and his cat twined itself between his feet. "Alfred will say something again later if he wants to, won't he, England?" He picked up his cat and held it to his chest. For some reason, he felt strangely lonely.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's note: _Sorry for the wait. Starting a new story a few weeks before finals was clearly not the best idea. :) Second to last chapter.

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><p><em>Chapter 2<em>

A few weeks later, Arthur was feeling a bit . . . Well, he wasn't sure what, really. He couldn't seem to sit still. He found himself thinking of Alfred almost all the time. Since the incident during the rainstorm, he hadn't talked much with Alfred. Yes, sometimes Alfred would stop during his run and chat with Arthur a little, leaning over the fence casually, but it didn't feel the same. Arthur had invited him in for a snack once, but Alfred had brushed him off easily with a laugh. Alfred still called him "Artie," but there was something more distant in his smile. It wasn't much of a difference, and most people wouldn't have noticed, but Arthur was looking for it, and it was there.

One day, Arthur decided that he needed to do something different. He had done almost nothing but read since he had moved there, which normally he would have enjoyed, but he was starting to feel bored out of his mind. He decided that he was going to finish unpacking if it killed him. He watered his roses earlier than usual (purposefully pretending not to mind missing Alfred), rolled up his sleeves, opened the garage door to let in some sunlight, and set to work.

He worked for a little under an hour and a half and got, if not all the boxes, at least enough of them cleared out so that he could park his car. It had taken him a much shorter time than he had expected to unpack them, so he decided that he might as well not stop there. He had unpacked all of the boxes in the garage that he knew contained things he was likely to need or want, but there were still a few more boxes somewhere that he knew contained a few things he had found himself wanting (namely, his toaster and a set of silverware his mother had given him). He had had the foresight when he first moved in to have the movers put some of the boxes in the attic above the garage, and he could only assume that this was where these particular boxes were hiding. He positioned his step-ladder underneath it, climbed up, and tugged on the trap door.

Nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing. It barely moved. There was no lock, and he knew that the movers had been able to open it the first time around. There was no other conclusion to be drawn: It was stuck.

Arthur deliberated. He could try to pry it open – but he didn't have a crowbar, or anything even remotely strong enough. He could unscrew the hinges or something equally ridiculous, but that was a last resort. He thought of the number, carefully placed by the phone in his kitchen. He knew Alfred was awake, because they had waved at each other when he ran by about an hour earlier. Alfred was also much more likely than Arthur to be able to force the dratted thing open, judging from the biceps that his t-shirts and tank tops so nicely displayed, and the abs that were hinted at by the way his shirt clung to him when he ran – er. Strong, yes.

Arthur bit his lip. He knew that he was deceiving himself – he didn't _really _need to get into the attic right then, so he didn't _really _need Alfred's help. He was coming up with an excuse to spend some time with Alfred. "Well, there's no harm in that," he muttered to himself determinedly. He went inside, picked up his phone, and dialed.

Alfred picked up quickly. He sounded somewhat breathless, but his voice was loud and clear in Arthur's ear. _"Hello?" _

"Hello, Alfred. Sorry to trouble you. It's Arthur. I'm clearing out my garage, but I'm having some trouble getting the blasted trapdoor to the attic open, and I was wondering, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, if you could help me." He wished that his phone still had a cord so that he could twist it around his finger. He drummed his fingers on the counter instead.

_"Trapdoor, huh? Yeah, sure. I'll be over in a minute." _

"Thanks so much," Arthur said, relieved. "That would be great."

_"See ya in a sec." _

"Right. Bye." He hung up and let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding. Now he just had to wait. He went out to the garage and started sorting through the remaining boxes. For the most part, they contained things which only had sentimental value. He had accumulated a lot of possessions that he had no reason to have, but that he couldn't bring himself to throw away. He found a box of old books he had forgotten he had and became so immersed in it, he almost didn't notice when Alfred showed up. He heard footsteps on the pavement of the driveway and looked up.

"Hey Artie," Alfred said with a tired grin.

"Hello Alfred," Arthur barely managed. And then he stared.

Alfred had clearly gone on a very long run. His thin grey t-shirt was soaked with sweat and it clung to him like a second skin. Arthur could see every line of every muscle of his torso. Sweat beaded at his temples and the hollow of his throat. He was wearing a headband, and as Arthur watched he took it off and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Arthur had always thought that in real life, sweaty men were disgusting. A starched, clean shirt and slacks was his idea of a sexy outfit. But Alfred looked like he had just stepped out of a deodorant commercial – and Arthur was having a very hard time figuring out how to deal with the situation.

"What do you need help with?" Alfred asked. He walked into the garage and looked around curiously at the half-opened boxes strewn about the floor.

_Please, don't come any closer, _Arthur begged. He cleared his throat. "The trapdoor." He pointed at it. "It's stuck."

Alfred looked up at it. "Huh. Here, hold this, will you?" He stepped closer to Arthur and handed him his mp3 player.

Alfred smelled. So. Good.

Arthur had met only a few men who smelled good when they were covered in sweat. Alfred was one of them, and he smelled like spices and cinnamon. Alfred noticed Arthur's stunned expression and grimaced apologetically. "Yeah, I really need to shower, I know. Sorry about that." (_Oh, please don't, _thought Arthur miserably.) He climbed up the step-ladder, and then reached up and tugged at the trapdoor. It didn't budge. He got a good grip with both hands on the handle and pulled as hard as he could. His muscles strained, and finally it popped open. He poked his head up in the attic and looked around. "Wow, you have a lot of boxes in here. Do you want help getting them down?"

"If you could. I mean, you must have been in the middle of your run. I wouldn't want to keep you any longer," Arthur said hastily.

"Nah, it's no problem. I was on my way back when you called. Just gave me the extra incentive to sprint the rest of the way back." Alfred looked down at Arthur and grinned. Arthur's breath hitched. He turned back to the attic, picked up a box, and handed it down to Arthur.

It didn't take them long to bring down all the boxes. Arthur slowly placed the last one onto of a stack of boxes and wiped his hands shakily on his trousers. "Would you like to come in?" he asked. "I could get you something to drink."

Alfred grinned. "That would be great, but I don't think you want me around like this. How about I go home and shower and then come back?"

"Sure," Arthur said, forcing the casual tone of voice. He handed the mp3 player back to Alfred.

"See ya," Alfred said with a grin, and then he was off.

"Bye," Arthur said rather belatedly. He bit his lip and watched Alfred jog off. "So what if he's a little . . . charming," he muttered to himself. "No need to get all worked up about it." When Alfred was out of sight, Arthur turned away, closed the garage door, and went back inside.

* * *

><p>Alfred returned some time later, freshly showered and in clean clothes. "Hey," said Alfred.<p>

"Hello again," Arthur said, and let Alfred inside. He had rather given up on unpacking for the time being and decided to just shove all the remaining half-packed boxes back in the garage instead. While waiting for Alfred, he had made himself a cup of tea. He had even bought some coffee for Alfred a few days previous, and had made a cup – though he was fairly certain his attempt at making it hadn't turned out very well.

Alfred's eyes lit up when he walked in the room. "Whoa, do I smell coffee?"

Arthur smiled. "Indeed you do. It's all yours."

"Great, thanks," Alfred said happily, and sat down at the table. He sipped at the coffee a little and made a bit of a face, but Arthur pretended that he didn't notice and Alfred didn't say anything.

"Did you have a good run?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah, great," Alfred replied. "I love the sunny weather like this." He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Really, I just love the summer. I can't believe school's almost here."

Arthur's heart sank a little. _Oh dear, he really is in university. _"Erm, right."

"But autumn's cool too, right?" Alfred said with a grin. "Uh, no pun intended."

Arthur rolled his eyes and smiled. "Sure it wasn't."

"What's your favorite season?"

"Hmm." Arthur looked into his cup of tea. "Autumn, actually, I think. I don't like the cold so much, but I love the colors the trees turn, especially out here. And it's the kind of weather that makes me want to sit by the fire with a book." Arthur smiled slightly. "You?"

"Summer," Alfred said immediately. He grinned. "Because of my birthday, of course!"

"Oh?" Arthur asked curiously. "Your birthday's in the summer?"

"Yeah! July 4th, same as the US of A."

"Were you one of the ones setting off firecrackers?" Arthur asked dryly. He remembered July 4th. He had been kept up until the wee hours of the morning by the fireworks, firecrackers, and a significant amount of cheering and music from down the street.

Alfred laughed. "Yup. I have a giant party every year. But no, there's more to the summer than that." His smile softened. "I love being able to go outside every day. And the smells, and the sunshine, and – yeah."

Arthur was fairly certain he had never seen such an expression on Alfred's face before. For once, Alfred looked content and thoughtful. He pulled his tea a little closer to him. Alfred really was handsome, but it was more than that. It was the look his eyes got when he was out in the sunshine, the way he smiled so easily and how it always felt genuine, the way he found the most unexpected things interesting. Arthur couldn't think of a single thing about Alfred that honestly bothered him. In fact, Arthur couldn't think of a single reason why he would ever want to stop seeing Alfred's smile every day.

Oh, he was falling hard.

* * *

><p>Alfred seemed to relax a little after that. Now, he didn't stop in his run to chat every once in a while; no, he stopped every day. Sometimes they would chat for so long, Arthur had to turn off the hose lest he drown his roses and his lawn. Arthur was beginning to hope that Alfred would suggest they go out to the movies again, for Arthur was beginning to think that he should have said yes, but Alfred didn't bring it up again.<p>

One night, Arthur was sitting in his living room, reading a book by lamplight. He was having a harder time concentrating than usual, but he was far too awake to want to go to bed. His cat jumped up onto the couch beside him, but instead of curling up contentedly, it sat down and looked at him. Arthur set his book in his lap with a sigh and looked back. "I suppose I'm being silly about this whole thing, aren't I?" he asked his cat. It twitched its tail impatiently. He scratched it between the ears. "I'm acting like I've never had a crush before. If I want to see him, I should do something about it." He stood up, despite a mew of protest from his cat, and walked to the kitchen. He picked up the phone and dialed the number he had already memorized.

_"Hey Artie! What's up?" _

"Hello Alfred." Arthur leaned against the counter. "I was wondering if you were free tonight."

_"Tonight?" _

Arthur closed his eyes and took a small breath. "Yes. As in, at the moment."

_"Sure, I'm not really doing anything. What's up?" _

"Do you like to play – hmm, let's see. Monopoly?"

_"You have a Monopoly set? I haven't played that in ages!" _

Arthur smiled. "Actually, I don't. I was wondering if you do."

_"Yeah! Can I bring it over?" _

"Yes please."

_"Great! I'll be over in a few!" _

"See you then." Arthur hung up, a smile still teasing at his lips.

* * *

><p>When Arthur opened the door a few minutes later, it was to the sight of Alfred with a large box under one arm and an enormous tupperware container under the other. "I brought cookies," he explained. "We can have milk and cookies while we play!"<p>

Arthur smiled a little. "Sounds good."

Alfred went to set up the game in the living room while Arthur got them glasses of milk. When he got back, Alfred had the board spread out on the floor and was doling out fake money. Arthur settled down across from him. "Cookie?" Alfred asked, offering him his pick from the container. "They're chocolate chip."

"Why thank you," Arthur said, and took one.

"You know," Alfred said as he officially appointed himself banker and picked out his token, "This game is going to take forever with just two people."

"Oh, I wasn't really planning on finishing," Arthur said with a glance at the clock. "I haven't played in forever, anyway. I'm sure I'll do horribly."

"Not _finish?" _Alfred exclaimed, horrified. "But we _have _to finish!"

Alfred looked so panicked, Arthur was tempted to chuckle. "Okay, okay. But we might have to continue it another day. I can only stay up so late."

Half an hour later, Arthur was much more into the game than he had expected and feeling very competitive. "I'll trade you Atlantic Avenue for Boardwalk."

Alfred laughed. "Are you kidding?"

Arthur looked up at him with a deadpan expression. "I never kid."

Alfred chuckled. "No way. I can give you another cookie, though." He took one for himself and then offered the container to Arthur.

Arthur reached into the container and his hand met empty air. He frowned and peered inside. He could have sworn that when he first saw it, it was full. It was now almost entirely empty. "Alfred, how many of those did you _eat?" _

Alfred looked at him innocently, a cookie half-way to his mouth. Then he grinned. "Oh, you haven't seen me eat much, huh?"

"I can't say I had until now," Arthur said dryly.

"Yeah, I eat a ton." Alfred popped the cookie in his mouth. "It's actually kind of embarrassing ordering at restaurants."

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm. We should go to McDonald's sometime. They know me there."

Arthur wasn't exactly sure whether having a fast-food chain "know" you was a good thing or not, but Alfred did not elaborate. A thought occurred to Arthur which had been lurking in the back of his mind for some time. He considered it. "Actually," he said carefully as he moved his piece farther along on the board, "Would you like to go out for coffee some time? Work's about to start, so I'll be a little busier than usual."

There was a slight pause. "Really?" asked Alfred.

Arthur was busy drawing a card from the Community Chest. "I haven't been out of the house much, as you know. If you have anywhere to suggest . . ."

"I know the perfect place! It's not far from here." Arthur looked up and Alfred flashed him a grin. "You'll like it. It's small and cozy."

Arthur relaxed, relieved that Alfred hadn't questioned his motives. "That sounds nice."

"Do you want to go tomorrow? Are you free? I can pick you up."

"Yes, I'm free," Arthur said, looking down to hide his pleased smile at Alfred's enthusiasm.

Alfred grinned. "Then it's a date!"

* * *

><p>The next afternoon, Alfred showed up at Arthur's door – or rather, he opened it, poked his head inside, and said cautiously, "Artie?"<p>

Arthur came in out of the living room, already prepared to leave. "Hello. Are you ready?"

Alfred smiled sheepishly and didn't come inside. "Yeah, but there's something I kinda forgot to tell you."

"Oh?" Arthur grabbed his keys off the counter and followed Alfred outside. "What is it?"

"You might not really want me to drive you to coffee."

"Why not?" Arthur asked curiously.

"I'll show you," Alfred said. Arthur followed him down the path and onto the sidewalk. They walked down the street for a bit, and then Alfred paused, glanced at Arthur, and turned up the driveway of a neatly painted house.

Alfred's house was larger than Arthur's. It had a sort of sprawling quality to it, but it was identical to the two houses on either side. It had a freshly mowed lawn in front and there were a few shrubs planted against the tall wooden fence separating it from its neighbor. Arthur had no chance to see the inside of it, however, for Alfred pressed a button and his garage door opened. Inside was a motorcycle.

Alfred looked back at Arthur and grinned hopefully. Arthur's face went white. "I'm driving," he said flatly.

"Aw, I have an extra helmet," Alfred said pleadingly. "It would be an adventure!"

"No," Arthur said. "And don't try to tell me that it would be exciting. I am being perfectly sensible in not wanting to get myself killed."

"Fine," Alfred said with a little sigh. He closed his garage door and fell in beside Arthur as he began to walk back to his own house. "But I'm really safe about it, I swear."

"I'm sure you are," Arthur said.

When they got back to Arthur's house, Arthur pulled the car out onto the driveway. Alfred obediently got into the passenger seat and fastened his seatbelt. Arthur started his car (which had long since been fixed) and began to back out of the driveway. "Hey," Alfred said suddenly, "You do know that we drive on the right side of the road here, right?"

Arthur looked at him and saw that Alfred was grinning at him, but there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes. Arthur had to smile a little bit at that. "Alfred," he said exasperatedly, "I'm not going to kill you. I have lived here for a quite a while now. My accent does not affect my driving capabilities."

Alfred grinned. "Okay, I trust you, fuzzy-brows."

"Don't call me that," Arthur said as he pulled into the street, but there was no venom in it.

"Yes, Artie."

Arthur rolled his eyes.

* * *

><p>Arthur drove them to the coffee shop without incident, though it was not much due to Alfred's extremely difficult-to-follow directions. He kept saying things like, "Turn right" when they were in the middle of an intersection and Arthur could not possibly get across the other lane of traffic to make the required turn. Then Alfred would sigh a little and tell him to turn right when they got to "the billboard with the cows on it."<p>

Arthur parked his car and they went inside. Alfred was nearly bouncing up and down in excitement as they waited in line. Arthur eyed the menu warily. He skimmed past the disgustingly sweet coffee options and considered the pitifully limited tea selection. Alfred ordered something with lots of carmel and extra whipped cream, which somehow didn't surprise Arthur.

"Are you together?" the woman behind the counter asked politely.

"Yes," said Alfred.

"No," said Arthur at exactly the same time. They looked at each other. Alfred whipped out a gift card and waved it triumphantly in Arthur's face. Arthur rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said. "Yes, we're together. I'll have the . . . black tea. And a blueberry scone."

Alfred handed over his gift card and chuckled a little. He glanced at Arthur with a grin.

"What?" Arthur asked.

"You say 'blueberry' funny," Alfred said. "_Blooo_burry."

"Excuse me for speaking properly," Arthur muttered. He was so preoccupied with not smiling, he almost didn't notice that his "black tea" was really just a pitifully weak teabag floating in a sea of hot water.

After Alfred's coffee-related beverage appeared, they settled themselves at a table for two against the window. The sun streamed in. Arthur nibbled at the scone contentedly. "So, work's starting soon?" Alfred asked.

"Yes. I'm going to start going in regularly next week, but classes won't really start until the week after."

"Are you still going to have time to water your roses, then?" Alfred asked with a crooked smile.

"Well, I'll wake up early," Arthur said. "On Tuesdays and Thursdays classes start later, so I should be around then for your run – if you still have time for it."

Alfred nodded. "Yeah, I'll still be around on those days. Maybe we could start going out for coffee more regularly?" he hinted.

Arthur eyed him carefully. Alfred's expression was carefully neutral, but Arthur could see something else in his eyes. "Mmm," Arthur said noncommittally. _Well, Arthur, _he thought, _Are you going to take the chance? _"Would you consider this a date?" he asked as carelessly as he could.

Alfred made a strange coughing noise and spluttered into his coffee. He hastily wiped his mouth and looked up at Arthur with wide eyes. "What?"

"Would you consider this a date?" Arthur repeated. "Or is this the sort of thing you do with friends?"

Alfred eyed him cautiously. "Do you want it to be a date?"

"What I want is immaterial if you're not interested."

Alfred cocked his head to the side. A slow grin appeared on his face. "You're asking me out."

"We're already out," Arthur pointed out, but the growing blush on his cheeks gave him away.

Alfred leaned a little farther across the table, now fully grinning. "You know, you could have just asked me straight out."

"I'm not sure 'straight' is the correct adjective here," Arthur said, dodging the rest of the statement.

Alfred sat back in his chair. "Yes, I think this is a date."

"Oh?" Arthur asked faintly.

"Yes," Alfred said firmly. He gulped down the rest of his coffee, still grinning.

_Well then_, thought Arthur as he sipped at his weak cup of tea.

* * *

><p>Alfred became a bit ridiculous after that – in Arthur's opinion, at any rate. The next time he showed up at Arthur's house, he was holding a box of chocolates and grinning. After that, he brought Arthur a stuffed bear with a red ribbon tied around its neck ("It has eyebrows like yours, Artie"). They started watching movies together on a regular basis, and Alfred always insisted on wrapping his arms around Arthur and resting his chin on Arthur's shoulder. It was adorable, Arthur had to admit, but still. Arthur's roses were starting to bud, and once Alfred even brought him one of them. It was pink and barely open. Arthur kept it in a vase in the living room and watched as its petals slowly unfurled.<p>

Then it was the beginning of September, and school started.

* * *

><p><em>Author's note: <em>Of course the "coffee shop" is a Starbucks. Why would Alfred go anywhere else?


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's note: _Last chapter. :) Btw, no, I never specified which state they're in, because I don't think it really matters this time around.

Also, is it just me, or am I super setting-oriented? I've realized that I pretty much _always _have these two going into houses and places like that, and I always have a floor plan in my head. At some point I think I might draw them out, just to see if I'm actually clever or if it's all secretly the same floor plan being repeated over and over. 'orz Does it bother you to have everything so building-centric?

Oh, and Happy Holidays! :D

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 3<em>

The first day of classes was uneventful. Arthur had luckily gotten out of teaching Freshman English, so most of his students seemed relatively interested in what he was saying. Before he knew it, the day was over. Alfred was coming over for a movie that night, so he went home, did what he needed to do to prepare for class the next day, and cooked himself dinner.

Alfred showed up with a collection of DVDs under one arm and a grin. He gave Arthur a one-armed hug, complete with a kiss on the nose, and asked, "How were your classes?"

"Fine," Arthur said with a bit of a blush. He opened the door wider and invited Alfred in. It wasn't as if Alfred bothered to knock anymore, or as if he needed to, but Arthur still liked to greet him at the door.

"No trouble-making students?" Alfred asked as he spread out their movie options.

"Not so far." Arthur sat down on the couch and lay his head back with a sigh. "I think the summer spoiled me a little, though. I usually take a summer job." He drew his feet up onto the couch and curled up.

Alfred joined him a moment later. He put an arm around Arthur and nuzzled his hair. "Mm," he said with a smile into Arthur's hair. "Is some of that spoiling my fault?"

Arthur smirked and rested his head on Alfred's shoulder. "Maybe."

"So, to celebrate your first day of teaching at a new school, what would you prefer: _Alien _or _The Day After Tomorrow_?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Really, Alfred?"

Alfred was grinning as he picked out _Alien. _"Come on, we've been watching chick flicks for _aaages_."

"You had better be willing to let me hide in your shoulder during the scary parts," Arthur said dryly.

"It's the least I can do as the hero," Alfred said with a wink.

It should have been no surprise to Arthur that sometime later, Alfred was the one hiding his eyes in Arthur's shoulder, whimpering. Arthur patted him on the back with a sigh. "It will be over soon," he said with a motherly cluck of his tongue. "Come now, you can't hide for the _entire _movie." Alfred just whimpered in response.

* * *

><p>Arthur fell back into the routine of teaching quickly. He and Alfred developed an unofficial movie night on Fridays, with Tuesday as their normal date night. Really, though, Alfred would wander over to Arthur's house whenever he felt like it, which was at least once a day.<p>

Arthur tended to his roses in the morning as he always had, but now Alfred only ran by on the weekends. Now there was always at least one of Arthur's roses in the vase on Arthur's dining room table, courtesy of Alfred. "You shouldn't leave them all outside," Alfred told him. "They brighten up the whole room, don't you think?" Arthur smiled, for he couldn't agree more.

* * *

><p>About a month into the semester, Arthur was standing at the front of his class as he usually did, looking at his notes idly. He always arrived a few minutes early, and class wasn't to start for at least five more minutes. He sighed a little. His eyes may have been on his notes, but his mind was elsewhere. It was a busy week for him. He and Alfred were going on a date the next afternoon, which was unusual for them, but they had both wanted a break. He had laundry to do, too, and he needed to buy cat food . . . A few more students trickled into the classroom. He glanced at the clock. Three more minutes.<p>

Another student walked in. Just before the door closed behind her, someone caught it, pushed it open, and called, "Jamie, wait up!"

Arthur's head snapped towards the door. Standing there, half in and half out of the classroom, was Alfred Jones. For a moment, Arthur was so shocked he thought he was imagining things. What was _Alfred _doing there? "Alfred?" he blurted out.

Alfred looked over at him and blinked. He pushed his glasses up a little higher on the bridge of his nose and grinned. "Hey, Arthur. I didn't know this was your classroom."

Arthur stared at him while he tried to process this information. Alfred didn't appear surprised at all. He turned back to the girl he had been trying to catch up to, who was looking expectantly at him. Alfred handed her a piece of paper. "Here's your test," he said. "Sorry, I forgot to hand them out at the end of class so I've been trying to catch everyone in the passing period. I figured you'd want it back now, since you got the highest grade in the class." He laughed.

She blushed a little and took it from him. "Thanks, Professor Jones."

"Call me Alfred, please. And don't thank me! You did great." Alfred turned back to Arthur. "I'm not interrupting your class, am I?"

"No, class hasn't started yet," Arthur said automatically without looking at the clock. He continued to stare. Alfred was a teacher. At the same university. How had he missed this?

"Hey, you okay Artie?" Alfred asked. He had let the door close behind him and was now standing next to Arthur, hands in his pockets.

"What class was the paper from?" Arthur asked faintly.

"Hmm? Oh, Quantum Mechanics. This year's my first time teaching it."

"Oh," Arthur said.

"How's this class treating you? I see a couple people from my Physics III class, yeah guys?" He waved to several students who were sitting in front of them and winked at them. The students smiled and a few of them waved back. Actually, Arthur noticed, most of his class was smiling. And staring. Well.

Arthur cleared his throat. "As nice as it's been seeing you, Alfred, I think it's about time–"

"What kind of stuff are you guys reading in this class?" Alfred asked the class, interrupting Arthur without so much as a blink.

"English," called someone, which got a few giggles. "Shakespeare," said someone else. "Chaucer." "Milton." "Gulliver's Travels."

Alfred nodded. "Well, Artie here is the best person you could have to be teaching you about that stuff. He may not act like it, but he completely loves what he's talking about, and he knows his subject. Don't be too hard on him, either, okay?" He winked at the class. "He's a really nice guy."

"How do you two know each other?" one student piped up. Arthur tried to glare at the student in question, but they didn't even seem to notice.

"We're neighbors," Alfred said without a second of hesitation. "And, speaking of," he said, turning back to Arthur, "We're still on for tomorrow, right?"

"Right," Arthur said. His cheeks were rapidly heating up, but he tried to ignore it.

"Great," Alfred said. He grinned, and just for a second, Arthur caught something in his eyes that felt like it was meant just for _him. _"See ya around." He waved and walked out the door.

"Bye Mr. Jones," chorused some of the class. The door clicked shut and Arthur stared at it for a moment too long. He looked at the clock. They were starting class four minutes late. He frowned and cleared his throat.

"Now then, about _A Midsummer Night's Dream . . ._"

* * *

><p>Alfred started stopping by Arthur's classroom on a regular basis. It turned out that on Mondays, Wednesday, and Fridays, he taught a class just before Arthur's, but had a free period during it, so he felt free to make Arthur's class start as late as possible. Arthur did what he could to encourage Alfred to leave so class could start on time, but he found that he really enjoyed seeing Alfred in the middle of the day. It was such a nice little break from everything that he had to do. It wasn't long before he noticed that Alfred was actually letting his class out early just so he could come talk to Arthur. It had made Arthur blush and tell Alfred to let out his class on time, but when Alfred laughed him away, he couldn't help but feel a little proud that Alfred would do something like that for him.<p>

The semester continued at a surprisingly fast pace. Arthur and Alfred were still as comfortable together as they had been before, but Arthur felt like after that first time Alfred walked into his class, their relationship had subtly shifted. All the vague fears Arthur had had that Alfred was too young and lived with his parents completely evaporated. It had made Arthur realize that Alfred wasn't exactly the person he had thought he was. In fact, he was better.

"Why don't you ever invite me over to your place?" Arthur finally asked one night when they were curled up on the couch after watching a movie.

Alfred immediately looked a little guilty. "Well, it's pretty messy. You keep your house so neat . . . Mine would probably give you heart attack."

"Nonsense," Arthur said briskly. "I want to see where you live."

"Maybe Sunday? After I have tomorrow to clean it up . . ."

"No, let's go now." Arthur stood up and brushed himself off. "I don't want to see your house after you've made it look _presentable. _I want to see your _home._"

"Artie," Alfred pleaded.

Arthur purposefully did _not _meet Alfred's gaze, because he knew that one look at those big blue eyes would be enough to make him retract whatever he had just said. "Come on. You've seen me wet and miserable having a temper tantrum, and I can't see your house?"

"Fine," Alfred mumbled. His shoulders slumped forward dismally. He shrugged on his jacket and put on his shoes. "Just . . . don't yell at me, okay?"

"Alfred." Alfred looked at him. Arthur took his face between his hands and kissed him sweetly. Arthur looked into those blue eyes and smiled. "I'm not your mother. I'm not going to tell you want to do." _Unless it's _**_our _**_house, _he mentally amended.

Alfred smiled. "Okay. Then let's go."

It was dark out, and the street looked peaceful with the lighting from its regularly-spaced street lamps and the soft glow of a partially full moon. They walked quietly, with a little humming from Alfred. When they reached his house, Alfred opened the door and flicked on a light. He held the door open for Arthur and smiled. "Come on in."

Arthur stepped inside and looked around. There was a nice little entrance hall with a tiled floor, like in Arthur's house, but other than that they had very different floor plans. There were hooks on the wall for coats, and coats Arthur had never seen were hanging off of it haphazardly. A pile of shoes sat underneath it. Alfred toed of his shoes and nudged them over to join the pile. "Come on in," he said as he walked farther into the house. "I'll give you a tour." Arthur followed him.

"I'll show you my room first, since it's the worst, haha," Alfred said. His laughter sounded nervous.

"Alright," Arthur said. He winced as he had to step over a pile of what appeared to be dirty laundry to get into the hallway. Alfred pushed open the door to his room with his foot and Arthur followed him inside.

The mess was, well, kind of ridiculous. The closet door was open, as were several of the drawers of his dresser to varying degrees. Clothes hung out of the drawers haphazardly. It looked as though he had emptied his closet onto the floor in front of it, and then hung up other things on the hangers – namely a suit jacket and a collared shirt, neither of which Arthur had ever seen him wear. The bed was unmade, though it was tastefully decorated with white sheets and a navy blue comforter. The walls were mostly empty, except for a large map of the United States on one wall. A giant poster of the night sky covered the ceiling. Alfred saw him looking at it and pointed to it with a smile. "It's glow-in-the-dark. I've had it since I was a kid."

Upon further examination, Arthur could see worn corners and crease marks. He smiled. "I didn't know you were interested in the night sky."

"Oh, yeah! I love space and all that stuff. The year before college, I spent most of the money I earned over the summer on this autographed photo." He walked over to his bookshelf and pulled down a framed photograph of the moon landing.

Arthur took it gingerly. He could barely make out the second half of the signature, but it finally clicked: _Neil Armstrong._ He blinked. "Wow."

Alfred laughed. "Yeah, probably not the most practical thing ever, but I saw it online and knew I had to have it. I wish I could have been there," he said wistfully. "Anyway, my study's over here."

Arthur almost wanted to linger in Alfred's room. Now that he was starting to see past the mess, he could see all kinds of things that probably had stories of their own: A three-foot-tall alien statue in one corner, a miniature replica of some sort of space ship, a model of the solar system. However, with a last glance, he followed Alfred out of the room.

Alfred's study was messy more in the papers-strewn-everywhere way. The walls were more poster-heavy, but mostly with what seemed to be references: The periodic table, a string of DNA, and diagrams of other things Arthur didn't recognize. The living room was filled with video games and related items. All in all, Arthur thought with a little smile, it felt a lot like what he had expected Alfred's house to feel like.

Alfred led him back to the entrance hall and to the other side of the house. "This is the kitchen," he announced.

Arthur looked around with a little frown. There were dishes piled in the sink and an old pizza box sat on one of the counters. The room itself wasn't exactly _dirty, _but it certainly wasn't organized.

"That's the dining room." Alfred pointed into the adjacent room. "It's neater 'cause I barely go in there." Alfred made to turn away, but Arthur didn't follow him. In the center of the dining room table, sprawling out towards the ends and up toward the ceiling, was a structure made of plastic rods and spheres. Papers cluttered the table around it, but they had all been carefully cleared away from its base.

"What's that?" Arthur asked curiously.

Alfred came back and peered over his shoulder. "Oh, that's the structure of a molecule I'm working on. I started it on my desk, but it got too big so I had to move it in here." Alfred laughed a little. "Boring, right? But it's a fun hobby."

"Boring?" Arthur repeated absently. "No, I wouldn't say so." He walked into the room and began to slowly walk around the model, eyeing it with interest.

"Really?" Alfred asked, surprised. He followed Arthur at a distance. "Do you know much about stuff like this?"

Arthur shook his head. "Nothing. This really represents something in real life?"

"Yup," Alfred said. "Crazy, right?"

Arthur gazed up at it. "How long did this take you?"

Alfred shrugged. "I really have no idea. I've been working on it off and on for about a week."

"Do you do things like this with your students?"

Alfred chuckled. "Nah, I don't teach this kind of science. Like I said, it's a hobby. I'm really more of a physics guy. You want a snack?"

"Oh, sure," Arthur said.

"We can cuddle on the couch with some ice cream. I'll try to clean up the living room after my last gaming session, haha . . ." Alfred's voice faded as he moved into the adjacent room. Arthur gazed at the structure for a moment longer. Alfred really was interesting. He seemed so contradictory: Messy, yet structured; childish, yet sometimes too mature for his own good.

What Alfred had said finally made its way to Arthur's consciousness. He blinked. "Wait, Alfred," he said, hurrying back to the kitchen, "When you said 'ice cream,' you didn't mean–"

Alfred grinned at him and held out a carton of mint ice cream with two spoons stuck in it. "Want a bite? Sorry, but the bowls are all in the dishwasher. I keep forgetting to run it."

"You can't honestly expect me to eat ice cream out of the carton," Arthur said weakly.

"Oh come on, live a little," Alfred said as he took his hand and pulled him towards the living room. "This is the making of a romantic movie, right here."

"But–"

"No buts," Alfred told him. He scooped up a spoonful of ice cream and held it out to Arthur. "This is delicious, and if you don't have some you're going to say that you need to leave soon, and then I'm going to have to finish it all by myself and be lonely." Alfred looked at him with sorrowful eyes and Arthur tentatively took the spoonful of ice cream offered to him. "Plus, maybe one of these days once I've cleaned out my house, I'll say, 'Arthur, why don't you come over and eat a carton of ice cream with me and spend the night,' and you'll say, like this but more British, 'I'd love to, love,' and then I won't have to give you up when we're done eating this carton of ice cream, because it's almost gone." Alfred hooked an arm around Arthur's waist and pulled him closer. Arthur smiled to himself and took another bite of ice cream. "What do you think?" Alfred breathed into his hair.

Arthur gazed out the window thoughtfully. "Well, it's getting late." Alfred made a small whining noise, but Arthur cut him off before he could say anything. "It's also chilly outside, but it's warm in here with you, except for the ice cream, of course – why we're eating this in _autumn, _I don't know – and I don't really feel like walking all the way home." He paused. "Love, would you mind terribly if I stayed here tonight?"

It took a moment for this to sink in. "Tonight?" Alfred squeaked.

Arthur looked up at him with a slight frown. "Is this a bad day? It is the weekend tomorrow, after all . . ."

Before Arthur could say anything else, Alfred kissed him – and again, and again, until Arthur was laughing because Alfred's breath and fingers were tickling him. "Tonight would be _perfect_," Alfred said, and Arthur could tell that he was grinning.

"You know if I do, I'm going to have to help you clean your house tomorrow morning, hmm?" Arthur asked innocently into the skin of Alfred's shoulder. Alfred just chuckled.

* * *

><p>The semester gradually drew to a close. One day, as usual, Alfred stepped into the classroom the moment the passing period started. Arthur was waiting for him, of course, with that day's notes in a neat pile on the table at the front of the room and the work they were discussing lined up neatly next to it. "Hello, Alfred," Arthur said with a gentle smile. He was having a good day. The weather was warmer than it had been, which meant that he had been able to be out in his garden. His roses wouldn't last much longer, of course, but their final blooms were as beautiful as their first.<p>

"Hey, Arthur," Alfred said, but his smile was weaker than usual.

Arthur noticed. His gaze sharpened. "How are you? Is something the matter?"

"Nope, I'm fine. You?"

"Are you sure nothing's wrong?" Arthur asked with a frown.

Alfred laughed hurriedly. "Oh yeah, nothing's wrong. I'm fine. Did you sleep okay?"

"Yes, thank you," Arthur said with a last suspicious glance at Alfred. "And you?" He eyed the notes on his desk. Had he forgotten to write down the date of that one event he had been going to mention in class today?

"Yeah, I slept fine, ha." There was a silence, which was unusual for Alfred. Arthur watched him with concern. Clearly something was up, even if Alfred denied it – _especially _if Alfred denied it. A few students walked into the room and took their seats.

"Oh, Professor Jones?" asked someone. Arthur watched as a student asked Alfred a question. He almost immediately tuned out what they were saying. They were nearing the end of the semester, which meant more stress for his students and a few weeks of frenzied work for him. It also meant they were nearing Christmas. He wasn't sure if Alfred celebrated or not, but he wanted to get him at least something to celebrate . . . well, just to celebrate. However, he still hadn't decided what he was getting him yet.

Arthur glanced at the clock. It was almost time to start class. The student had finished talking with Alfred, and Alfred was simply standing next to him, looking at his shoes. Arthur smiled a little. He reached out and touched Alfred's shoulder lightly. Alfred looked up. "Are you sure nothing's wrong?" Arthur asked quietly with an encouraging smile. Alfred looked back through worried eyes. Alfred took a deep breath.

"Um, class," Alfred said loudly without looking away from Arthur. He paused, and then tore his eyes away from Arthur's concerned gaze. "I, um. I guess I wanted to say, thank all of you for sticking with us all year, and. Well." He took a deep, shuddering breath, turned back to Arthur, and reached into his jacket pocket.

Arthur frowned at him in confusion. "Alfred, what–" His breath caught in his throat as Alfred pulled out a small, black velvet box. He put a hand on the table to steady himself. "What is that?"

Alfred knelt down on one knee. There was sudden, absolute silence in the classroom. "Arthur," Alfred said, "I know I can't speak as poetically as the authors you like to read, and I don't know half of what you're saying when you talk about them, but I do know–" Here Alfred paused a little and took a breath. "I do know that you are the most wonderful person I have ever met. I can't list everything, but you can write so well, and the way you smile, and your garden is the most beautiful one I've ever seen." Alfred smiled. "I know because I've seen it, and I've seen your roses, and I've seen how much you time you put into caring for them day after day. I love you, Arthur, and – and I want to put that much effort into taking care of you every day." Alfred opened the lid of the tiny black velvet box. "Will you marry me?"

For a moment, Arthur's mind went absolutely blank. Then thoughts started tumbling through it, thoughts of the future, worries, anxieties, and above it all–

"Yes, of course, you git," Arthur said. He was blushing, and he knew it, so he put a hand over his face, but he couldn't stop smiling.

The classroom erupted into cheers. Books were thrown, high-fives were given, and bets were paid out. Arthur didn't hear any of it because Alfred was standing up and smiling at him. Alfred held out a hand and Arthur took it. "Well then," Alfred said as he slid a gold ring onto Arthur's finger, "I guess we're going out to dinner tonight, huh, my _fiancé_?" He broke into a grin and Arthur threw his arms around him. He wanted to kiss Alfred so very much, but settled for burying his face in the crook of his neck and breathing in deeply. Alfred chuckled into his ear, and then he wrapped his arms tighter around Arthur's waist and swung him around in a circle.

"Alright, put me down," Arthur said. Alfred complied. Arthur began to push himself away from Alfred when he finally caught sight of the ring. He stopped resisting and just looked at it. It was a band of solid gold, with a small green gem set into the gold itself.

"It's an emerald," Alfred said. He hadn't stopped smiling. "It reminds me of your eyes."

"It's beautiful," Arthur said. He smiled up at him. "Thank you."

Alfred just grinned. He intertwined his fingers with Arthur's own, and somehow the gesture seemed at that moment to be more intimate than even a kiss.

"Do you really mean it?" Arthur asked more solemnly. "About getting married?"

Alfred looked surprised. "Of course! Otherwise I wouldn't have asked. Didn't you know? You picked one of the few states in the US where our marriage is legal." Before Arthur could protest, Alfred pecked him on the cheek. "But even if it wasn't, we would elope."

"I'm not sure that would be considered 'eloping'," Arthur muttered, but he was smiling. For the first time, they both looked at the classroom. It was in chaos. "I suppose I'll have to cancel class today."

"You sound so sad about it," Alfred said with a grin.

"Well, I wouldn't want to let the valuable time they spent walking here go to waste . . ." A twitch of Arthur's mouth betrayed that he was joking. Alfred laughed. "Alright," Arthur called out to the classroom. It took a few minutes, and he knew he was blushing and smiling, which made it more difficult to act serious, but he eventually had the attention of a few of his students. "Class is dismissed. We'll discuss last night's reading next class."

There was a cheer and a general stampeded of students out the door. As each one of them left, they yelled out a "Congratulations!" Alfred laughed and waved at them all. When the last one had finally left, the two of them looked at each other.

"Well then," said Arthur.

"Well then," said Alfred. He stepped closer so that their noses were nearly brushing. "May I kiss the bride?" he breathed onto Arthur's skin.

"I hardly think–" Arthur began, but there was the beginning of a smile in the corner of his mouth, and he even let Alfred dip him down and kiss him, just how he knew Alfred had always wanted to. Arthur straightened, a little breathless and laughing, and kissed Alfred again and again. All in all, he decided, moving here had been the best choice of his life.

And somehow, what this had all really started with was a garden of roses just waiting to bloom.


End file.
